


To Hope

by TomatoBookworm



Series: Tomato’s Chinese New Year Fics [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chinese New Year, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Gen, Lunar New Year, Mentioned Canonical Character Deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29361465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoBookworm/pseuds/TomatoBookworm
Summary: In one timeline, Melinda May lost almost everything, except for a daughter, and hope.In another universe, Melinda May doesn’t remember being a mother, but her family has never being conventional.
Relationships: Lian May & Melinda May, Polly Hinton & Melinda May, Robin Hinton & Melinda May
Series: Tomato’s Chinese New Year Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156838
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	To Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [26stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/gifts).



> \- Cultural sensitivity note: I know many different groups celebrate the Lunar New Year and each culture has its own practices. For the purposes of this fic, where I am focusing on canonically Chinese American characters, I am choosing to use the term Chinese New Year and its associated traditions.
> 
> \- For 26stars, who prompted me on Tumblr: “For your trick, I challenge you to write a little oneshot of May’s family+Robin’s family+meal.”
> 
> \- Trigger warning: This fic is a way for me to process my feelings about the pandemic and the fact that I haven’t seen my own mother for over a year. This is not the most angst-filled fic I’ve ever written, but what is cathartic for me to write might be triggering for you to read. If you celebrate Lunar New Year and you are having a hard time dealing with everything in the world right now, please feel free to skip this fic if you don’t think you are in the right mental place for it. 
> 
> \- Posting early for New Year’s Eve. Wishing everyone a happy and hopeful new year!

May stepped carefully into the bunk, “Robin? Did you have a nightmare?”

The young girl held the blankets to herself and looked up without a word. The whimpers might have stopped, but May saw the confusion in her eyes. 

“Can I sit down on the bed?” At Robin’s nod, May approached slowly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Mommy was baking cookies,” Robin said. “And I told her about you. She looked sad. I miss her.”

Robin didn’t start verbalizing until long after the Earth cracked. It must have been a simple dream then, rather than another flash of her powers. May was glad that Polly didn’t hear about this abysmal future, but here was a child that sought her mother in dreams. Not for the first time, May wished Daisy was with them. May took a deep breath to center herself against the grief, and tried to do the best she could for another young Inhuman. 

“It’s okay to miss her. She loved you, very much.” 

“I know.” Robin’s voice was muffled under the blanket. “Mom? Do you miss your mom too?”

May took a deep breath, “Every day.” 

“Did you bake cookies with her? For Christmas? Or Valentine’s Day?”

“No.” May had inherited her lack of kitchen skills from her mother, among other things. “But we always decorated the house together for Chinese New Year.” There were many arguments over window decorations. The placement had to be exact to keep a clear view of any potential enemies approaching, but still brighten the place with the appropriate festive mood. 

“Can you tell me more?”

“Of course. It’s the first day of the new year in the lunar calendar.” May looked at the gray walls in the windowless room. The moon drifted away after the Earth cracked. There were no fragments big enough to keep a gravitational pull on the satellite. “Once upon a time, there was a monster called Nian that slept in the deepest part of the sea. It came out to hunt once a year, at nightfall on the last day of a long winter. People ran away at the monster’s approach, thinking that if they could hide well enough, they would be safe.”

“What about the people who couldn’t run?”

“They were left behind,” May said. No point in painting a bright Disney veneer over the tale. Lighthouse’s reality was darker than any folklore. “One year, an old woman and her grandson stayed in their hut, too weak to leave for the mountains. A beggar arrived as the villagers were leaving. No one would stop to help him. The old woman and her grandson took pity on the beggar and called him over, sharing what little food they had.”

“That’s nice,” Robin said. “Virgil shared his food with me after you’re gone.”

May’s heart lurched. She knew Robin would outlive her, then die as an old woman in another May’s arms. At least now she also knew someone would watch out for her little girl in between those years. 

“I’ll thank Virgil when I meet him.” A decade from now? Two decades? “Back to the story. After dinner, the beggar asked for the reason of the villagers running away. When he heard about Nian, he told the old woman he could teach her to fight the monster. The beggar pasted red paper to the front door, and then he wrapped a piece of red cloth around his shoulders—”

“Like a superhero cape? Daisy never wore one though, and she’s a superhero.”

“Yes, she was.” And so much more. “The beggar stood tall by the door, with a bamboo walking stick in his hand. Inside the house, the old woman was chopping meat as the beggar asked. She was going to make dumplings. It might be their last meal.” 

“What happened next?”

“Nian came. The old woman was scared when she heard its roar, but she held steady to her post. In fact, she chopped harder, faster, louder.” May stopped to give Robin a little wink. “You see, Nian hated loud noises, and now its ears hurt.”

“Uh oh,” Robin giggled. “And then?”

“The beggar lit up his walking stick. The bamboo exploded, loud and bright. Can you guess what else the monster hates besides noise?”

“Light?”

“Exactly. Nian was used to darkness in the deep water. Now everywhere it looked, there were light and bright flashes of red as the beggar moved. The color was too much for its eyes. Nian ran back to the ocean. The old woman and her grandson were safe again.”

“And the beggar too,” Robin reminded her. 

“The beggar flew away,” May smiled as she watched Robin’s eyes grow big. “He was actually a god who came to help people, but only the old woman was kind enough to take him in and listen to his words.”

“Did they drive Nian away forever?”

“No.” May shook her head. “Nian would always come back. The old woman shared her knowledge with other villagers. From then on, every New Year’s Eve, people would decorate their homes with red paper and wear red clothes, chop and cook one last big meal, and set off fireworks to fight the monster. The next morning, people would visit their loved ones to celebrate surviving another year. In Mandarin, we call it 過年.”

“Guo… Nian?”

“Yes. Guo means to pass. Guo Nian is the celebration of getting through another year from the Nian monster. That’s the story of Chinese New Year. It’s about how people survived in the cold and dark.”

“Just like us.” Robin looked around their colorless bunk. “Why did the old woman tell the villagers how to fight the monster? They didn’t do anything to help her.”

“Because it’s natural to be scared.” May patted Robin’s shoulder. “No one is perfect, and we all have someone we want to protect. Sometimes, running away would seem like the right thing to do.”

“But not you.” Robin looked at her. “Or Fitz. Or Jemma. You are hiding, but you are waiting for your chance to fight the monster.”

“Yes.” By building the time machine. By training a secret group of True Believers. By raising this child who deserved so much more than a sunless room floating in space. “We are S.H.I.E.L.D., and we will always fight back. As long as there are people willing to help one another, we have hope.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The phone vibrated on the charging station. May didn’t move. Her mother raised an eyebrow. 

“Expecting anything?”

“No,” May said. Mack was understanding when she asked for time off during Chinese New Year. Elena had told her to enjoy the time with her mother. Everyone else on the team was in space. Or dead. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“Well, your phone is ringing. Are you going to get it?”

May walked over, assuming it would be a robocall that she could end immediately. The name on the screen made her snap up the phone instead. 

“Polly? Are you and Robin okay?”

“Yes, I think so,” Polly sounded shaken. “We are safe. Robin is asleep. I just, um, wanted to call you.”

“What happened?” May and Daisy both gave Polly their personal phone numbers after Chicago. They might have prevented one dystopian future, but Robin was still a child burdened too early with her powers, and they wanted to help in any way they could. Polly had never called until now. “Did Robin draw something?”

“No,” Polly said. “Robin started talking again. Not a lot at the beginning, and I don’t always understand her, but… she’s using her words. I think she was overwhelmed before. The other future scared her too much, and she couldn’t verbalize everything she saw. That’s why she drew. Now that we are in a better timeline, she can process things more.”

“That’s good,” May said cautiously. “What did she say?”

“We were baking cookies,” Polly started. “Robin loved pouring in the chocolate chips. All of a sudden, she said ‘Mom didn’t bake cookies with her mom, but they did Chinese New Year together.’ I think she meant you.”

“I see.” May knew she raised Robin in the alternate future, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about whether Robin would still remember the experience once they broke the loop. Despite what Daisy said, she couldn’t imagine herself as a mother. “It’s probably a temporary slip. She has you now.”

“It’s not a competition,” Polly said, quiet but fierce. “I am glad she had you in the other universe. Robin said you told her the story of Chinese New Year, how it’s about people fighting the monster together to survive. You taught her to hope.” 

May sat down in a chair. Back when she and Andrew were married, they talked about how they would bring up their children. Andrew wanted summer beach days, him teaching the kids to swim and building sand castles. May imagined snowy winter nights, little hands putting up red paper decorations on the windows while she explained the origins of their traditions. The dreams disappeared after Bahrain. She didn’t think she would ever have the chance to tell her stories. 

“It may seem like a small thing to you, but I want to call and say thank you.” Polly’s voice almost cracked. “I watched my husband shut himself away from everyone, then I saw my daughter losing her language, drawing those pictures all day. You reached her, reminded her there was a world outside her visions. I will always be grateful for that.” 

“I can’t take credit for something I didn’t do, but I am glad the story helped.” May noticed her mother gesturing from the corner of her eye. “Excuse me.” 

May put a hand over the phone, “What?”

“Invite them over,” her mother said. 

“Ma.”

“From what you’ve told me, I died in this other timeline never knowing where my daughter went, much less that she adopted a child,” her mother was relentless. “I’ve spent the past year wondering if you are dead or alive. Now that you haven’t literally disappeared off the face of the Earth, I would like to meet this grandchild of mine.”

“ _I_ didn’t adopt Robin.”

“But she remembers you being her mother. Now tell them to meet us for lunch.” 

  
  


* * *

They agreed to meet in a dim sum restaurant nearby before May had to return to the Lighthouse. Polly and Robin had moved again after the battle at Chicago. The Midwest region must hold too many difficult associations for them by now. The Hintons’ new place was within driving range from May’s mother’s house, probably by design. Hunter was good at ferreting out information, May would give him that. He was also the type to see a job through, long after the people who asked for his help left for space. 

Polly smiled when she saw May at the table. May had never seen the woman smile before, considering the circumstances under which they’ve met. Robin approached a little shyly. She had grown taller since the last time May saw her. 

“Hi Mom,” Robin said. “Hi Nai Nai.”

May watched her mother raise an eyebrow. She’d seen grown men cowered before that gaze, but Robin was unfazed. 

“Do you know me?”

”Yeah, you take me ice skating for my seventh birthday.”

“How old are you now?”

Robin looked towards Polly, who answered for her, “Robin turned five not too long ago. She’s learning how to tell her current time.” 

“It’s a good skill to have. Come. Do I also show you how to put rock sugar in chamomile tea?”

They all sat down at the table. May watched her mother and Robin absorb themselves in determining the proper sugar to tea ratio. She turned to Polly. 

“How are you?” 

“Good,” Polly answered with quiet pride, eyes on her daughter. “Robin is making so much progress. She talks to me and our neighbors all the time now. Sometimes Daisy stops by in between her missions and Robin likes those visits too. Daisy said her powers are too dissimilar to really offer any advice, but I think Robin’s happy just knowing another person with the same experience.” 

“I can ask the Director to look through our asset list and see if there are any other Inhuman families looking to socialize,” May said. After Andrew went into stasis, Lincoln had advocated for a program to put the remaining Inhumans in touch with one another, to provide much needed social and emotional support. No one picked up the torch after Lincoln’s death. It was time to revisit the idea. “But that wasn’t the question. How are you doing? Not Robin. You.”

Polly’s surprise showed in her eyes, “No one has asked me that in a while.” 

“I don’t remember being a mother, but I’ve seen good examples.” May looked over at her mother, older now after May’s disappearance and return, but still strong and resilient. “You can’t raise a child to be an independent adult, if you lose your own self in the process.”

“I think you understand more about motherhood than you realize,” Polly reflected. “I am okay. This isn’t a life I’ve ever imagined, but I’m living it. That’s better than the alternative.”

“You’re practical,” May said. 

“I have to be,” Polly said. “There’s no time for hysterics when things are falling apart, but we are doing better. Director Mackenzie gives us a small monthly stipend for putting Robin on the asset list. The money helps so I can work more flexible hours from home. My neighbors will watch Robin occasionally to give me a break. We are settling down.”

“Sounds like we need to get a takeout box for your neighbors as a thank you.” May was fairly certain of Bobbi’s food preferences. If Hunter objected to her selections, well, they never went out for dim sum when they were undercover. 

“The point is, I couldn’t dream of any of this a year ago.” Polly looked into May’s eyes. “It’s what you told Robin. As long as we are alive, we have hope.”

May raised her tea cup, warm and solid, yet still small and breakable like a shot glass. She had toasted friends who left unwillingly. She had toasted a lover who retired too early. She was tired, weary of what other toasts might lay in her future, but somehow, she would find the strength to continue. They all would. 

“To hope.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- Nai Nai means Grandma. It’s usually used for paternal grandmother, but there’s some movement for maternal grandmother to take the term too. It’s also the title used for older family friends that turn into honorary grandmas. I had at least five different “LastName + Nai Nai” growing up, and it feels right for Robin to use that term here with Lian.


End file.
